say my name
by sodium-amytal
Summary: Saul didn't think he'd reach any sexual firsts at this point in his life, but apparently Jesse is full of surprises. Though he really wishes Jesse had said any other name than "Mr. White."


Saul didn't think he'd reach any sexual firsts at this point in his life, but apparently Jesse is full of surprises. Though he really wishes Jesse had said any other name than "Mr. White."

"What?" Saul sputters out a weak-sounding laugh and stops shoving into Jesse, who's bent uncomfortably over Saul's desk. "Did you really just—Wow. I'm not sure if I should be offended or shocked." Saul's never been with anyone who's emphatically shouted someone else's name during sex.

Jesse's gone limp under Saul's hands like someone's sucked the bones right out of him. "Oh God," he moans, but it's not the sexy kind of moan Saul's used to. It's more of a "I'm finding a nice rock to hide under and I'm never coming out" kind of moan. "Can we just...start over and forget the last five minutes of our lives? Please?"

"Sorry, kid. You can't put that genie back in the bottle. We need to talk about this." Saul steps back and zips up, because, yeah, they're pretty much done here.

"Why do you hate me?" Jesse whines; Saul can't see his face, but he's fairly certain Jesse is pouting right now.

"I think the better question is 'why the hell are you thinking about Walt during sex?'" Walter White should have absolutely no involvement in their sex life, damn it. Saul starts pacing the office floor. "I can't really fault you for imagining someone else, but, really, _Walt_? That's what turns your crank?"

"No, it's not—" Jesse stops and sighs, pulling his jeans over his hips. He sits on the desk and rubs his neck with his hands. "Why can't we just start over? Why you gotta be all twenty questions with me?"

"Because either you want me to _be_ Walt, which—wow, hello daddy issues—or you've actually _been_ with him and that was just a, uh, force of habit, if you will."

In all of Saul's years, he's never seen anyone look so fucking guilty as Jesse Pinkman does right now. Holy shit. He might actually be able to smell the misery permeating off of him. Jesse rubs his eyes and makes some sort of pained noise. "Do we really have to talk about this?"

Saul moves in closer and lays his hands on Jesse's shoulders, because the kid's currently dying of horror and shame and could probably use some reassurance. Jesse keeps his head down so Saul can't see his face.

Saul feels a cold hand crawl down his spine. Walt's a manipulative bastard; how far would he go to make sure Jesse stays his?

He swallows back a lump in his throat and fits the curve of Jesse's cheek in his palm. Jesse's bottom lip quivers. His lashes flutter and send tears cascading down his cheeks. Saul brushes the wetness away with a thumb. "Jesse, hey"—he tips Jesse's chin to get him to meet his eyes—"I'm not gonna judge you or walk out on you, okay? I mean, alright, maybe I'll judge you a little bit if you honestly want him to bang you, but there's nothing you can tell me that will make me want to leave."

Jesse leans his head into Saul's touch, still keeping his eyes averted. "I don't actually _want_ him," he says, mouth curled in disgust. "It's just...habit, I guess."

Saul frowns and chooses his next words with care. "He didn't—he didn't make you do anything...you didn't want to do, did he?" He raises an eyebrow meaningfully.

Jesse shakes his head. "No, it—it wasn't like that. It wasn't..." He wets his lips, tries again. "It felt good, and he didn't seem like he was pissed at me anymore when it was over, so..." Jesse shrugs into silence, like it doesn't even matter that he let Walt fuck him just to keep the guy in a good mood. Jesus.

That's the saddest fucking thing Saul's ever heard in his life. Saul feels almost as terrible as Jesse does right now. He tries to lighten the mood. "So, what, are you telling me I fuck like a fifty-year-old cancer patient?"

Jesse's mouth tugs into a weak half-smile. "Hey, I knew who you were the first couple times."

Saul laughs.

"'Cause it was, like, romantic and shit, y'know?" Jesse says. "We went to your place, you took your time... You kissed me." Jesse grins around that last bit despite visible efforts not to. "You let me stay, made me breakfast in the morning..."

Saul presses a kiss to Jesse's forehead and lingers there for a moment. Christ, could this poor kid's life get any worse? "Why didn't you tell me? If it reminded you of him—If you didn't want..." Saul has no idea how to finish that sentence.

"'Cause it wasn't all bad. I mean, he wasn't gentle or anything, but it was okay, I guess."

Saul doesn't even know what to do with that. He trails his fingers down Jesse's arms until he finds his hands and laces Jesse's fingers with his own. Jesse doesn't pull away, rather, he squeezes Saul's hands with the slightest pressure and rests his forehead against Saul's chest, like he needs the physical contact to reassure him that Saul's sticking around.

"So what do _you_ want?" Saul asks, his voice a murmur in Jesse's short hair. "I don't want to remind you of him. If you tell me what you want, I can do that. I mean, within reason. I'm not really flexible or anything, so don't get too crazy. But, yeah, I live to serve." He feels a rush of relief when Jesse smiles, like maybe they can fix this travesty of sexual failure and turn it into something mutually agreeable.

"I want you," Jesse says, gazing up at him in adoration. He toys with the loosened ends of Saul's tie.

Saul can't help but smile back. "Well, hey, I'm yours. But I was thinking more along the lines of what you want, y'know, sexually. I wanna be the anti-Walt, metaphorically speaking. So tell me what he wouldn't—or couldn't—do for you."

Jesse's face scrunches like he's thinking about it. "He never kissed me or did anything, like, romantic. He never"—Jesse wipes a hand over his mouth—"he never wanted to look at me when we did it."

"That's my favorite part," Saul says with offense.

A smirk twitches at the corner of Jesse's lips.

"So it was pretty much just wham, bam, thank you ma'am, huh?"

Jesse nods like there's more he's not saying, but Saul's not going to push for details. It's really none of his business anyway.

Saul steps in closer so he's standing between Jesse's open legs. His fingers push at the edge of Jesse's jeans and work the button from its clasp. "I have an idea," Saul murmurs, working the denim over Jesse's hips. "If you want me to stop, just say the word, okay?"

Jesse nods again, and his skin prickles as Saul's hands slide along his thighs. Saul nudges Jesse's legs apart a little more, then he kneels before him. Jesse's already hard again, dick oozing precum over his belly. Saul closes his mouth over the head of Jesse's cock. Jesse shudders out a moan, his whole body shaking under Saul's lips. He tastes sweet and bitter all at once. Jesse feels fucking huge in Saul's mouth, and Saul's not exactly an expert at this. But Jesse sounds like he appreciates it, so Saul uses Jesse's little huffs of want to gauge his success. Saul figures he's hit pay dirt once Jesse's groaning, "Saul," and "yes" over and over and tugging at his hair.

"Oh, _now_ you know who I am?" Saul smirks, ghosting the words over the length of Jesse's dick before taking him in again.

Jesse sputters out something that sounds like "fuck you" before he's sucking in breaths through his teeth and hissing, "shit," when Saul runs his tongue along the underside of Jesse's cock. His nails drag over Saul's scalp, hands shaking with the promise of orgasm. And, yeah, maybe Saul likes sucking dick way more than he should, because when Jesse's making filthy, pornographic noises and clutching at his hair like this, it's hard not to love it.

Jesse says, "Saul, I'm gonna—please...let me," his breath shaking in his throat. Saul can feel how close Jesse is, and, God, all he wants right now is Jesse hot and wet on his tongue.

"Go ahead," Saul murmurs when his mouth's free for a moment. "I want it." He swallows Jesse down as far as he can and hums around him. Jesse's body goes impossibly tight, and Saul watches him fall over the edge, feels the scrape and dig of his nails as the thread of his orgasm unravels. Jesse makes the hottest fucking sounds Saul's ever heard in his life when he comes, and Saul tries to drink him all down.

Saul's never been on the other end of a blowjob, so his mouth ends up smeared with jizz by the time Jesse's finished. But he doesn't even care, because Jesse's gazing down at him with half-lidded eyes, his chest heaving and his body shaking. His hand curls around the back of Saul's neck. "Yeah, you're definitely the anti-Mr. White," Jesse breathes out when he can make words again.

Saul wipes his mouth with his hand. "What, was he better?"

Jesse snorts a laugh. "Shut up, you were awesome. He never did that for me."

"I didn't think so." Saul gets to his feet, and Jesse tugs at his shirt to bring him in for a kiss. He licks at Saul's mouth, tasting himself there. Jesse's hands are still shaking a little, and, wow, that's hot in a way Saul can't put a finger on.

Saul runs a hand along the length of Jesse's tattooed arm. Jesse captures Saul's lips again, smiling when they break apart. "If I wanted Mr. White, I wouldn't be here with you." His cheeks are flushed pink, but Saul knows Jesse well enough to know he's probably blushing under the weight of his words. "So, y'know, don't worry about tryin' to be different. You already are. That's why I like you."

"You _like_ me? Is that why you've been doodling 'Mr. Jesse Goodman' all over your homework?" Because Saul just has to poke at that.

Jesse lifts an eyebrow and grins. "You should see what I draw on the back."

"Why don't you give me a demonstration?" Saul says before stealing the breath from Jesse's lungs with another kiss.


End file.
